Family?
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: Sara brings up the notion of adoption with Grissom.


_Lauren beta'd this for me and then I added to it. :) All mistakes are completely mine. ALL MINE SUCKERS!!! BWAHAH!_

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Wringing her hands hard and sighing loudly and nervously, Sara paced back and forth. From the kitchen of the townhouse to the middle of the living room and back she walked, moving her lips silently. Looking like she'd somehow escaped from Bellevue and really _was_ hearing voices, Sara paused at the kitchen island and smoothed her hands over the folder that was spread there. 

She ran her fingers over the edges of the photo and then slowly closed the manila folder. Again she began her route, back and forth and back and forth while she spoke to herself, looked to the ceiling, paused and then began the monologue once more.

Her bottom lip was raw from biting, her hands red and chapped from worrying against them. Sara swore that if she didn't have the little self restraint that she could manage to tether that she would be tearing out her hair. Again she went back to the folder but couldn't bear to open it, instead she picked it up and shifted it over to the coffee table, placing it down carefully, as though made of crystal.

Seating herself down on the sofa, she stared at the object on the table as though it was emitting a radioactive glow.

Sara was prepared, she was sure she was prepared; she'd gone over the speech several times in her head, even writing it down once and managing to recite it before realizing that she was a huge nerd and if it mattered to her, that the right words would come naturally.

There had been points when she was sure she was ready to bring it up to him, that the moment was right, the timing, the place, but she could never manage to work the words up and out.

It was tearing at her heart, causing her unrest-not to mention she was going pretty much insane-and if she didn't get it off her chest and just tell him...

And if he loved her like he said that he did, he would understand. He might not agree with her or support the decision that she wanted them to make, but he would understand.

'Yes,' she decided, 'This morning will be the morning. We had a light shift, had amazing sex last night and have been so in sync as a couple that it's almost scary.' Not that any of those were reasons to make such a big decision, but it would make it easier for her to work everything out without freezing up.

No, it would be fine. It'd be great. Everything would go swimmingly.

Was she losing her voice? She sang the first few verses of Little Red Corvette and found that her voice _was_ a little scratchy... maybe talking at all would be a bad idea, until she nursed her vocal chords back to-NO! No, this morning was _the_ morning; no doubts.

No. Turning. Back.

Oh god, she was going to throw up. Really, her stomach was queasy and she felt more than a little dizzy. And well, her skin felt like it was going to turn inside out, but she was sure that wasn't anything to be worried about. Sara bit her lip again, pulled on her hands some more and thought more than a lot about tearing out clumps of her hair. After all... she didn't really _need_ hair... he'd love her without hair... or a bottom lip... or... fingers...

Sara sprang up from the sofa and went to the refrigerator and took a swig out of the half-empty bottle of orange juice she found inside. Glancing down at it, she raised the carton to her lips and chugged down the rest. She placed the empty carton in the sink and then placed both hands down on the counter, leaning her head down, sighing again.

And then she heard a familiar shuffling on the doorstep and she perked up, scrambling around the counter to open the door for him. His briefcase led, seemingly pulling him into the living space. She stepped back while he moved around and then shut the door behind him.

"Good day," he said, dropping the case down with a thud to take her face between his hands and giving her a thorough kiss. Sara fell into it, amazed at how the passion in their relationship had only managed to escalate in the ten months they had been together. She had a right mind to grab his ass and carry the party into the bedroom but her conscience reminded her that there were bigger matters at hand.

"I'll bet," she hummed as she pulled away, giving his bicep a squeeze before retreating to the chair next to the sofa.

Grissom went into the kitchen, retrieved a beer and then followed her into the living room, "I found myself really wanting Chinese, would that be alright?"

Sara smiled and nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"I'll get a menu in a minute," he sighed and closed his eyes, spreading his knees and sinking down into the couch. "Come sit with me," he cracked an eye, "I promise we won't watch Sports Center."

Again she smiled and moved to sit next to him. After he let out a tired, contented sigh, Sara spoke up, "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, sat up and took a long pull on his beer. "What about?"

"Alright," and even after weeks of rationalizing it in her head, thinking it over, formulating the exact phrasing, "I think uh... maybe this will make it easier for me if I just tell you this first-" he sat up straight immediately, his eyes going from content to concerned, "That I've been thinking about this for awhile now and I really think that if we're in this relationship one hundred percent that I should tell you what's on my mind..."

God, she couldn't even imagine what was going through his head at that moment; all numbers of things... Cutting to the chase, she was cutting to the chase. Sara leaned forward and flipped the file open, fighting the urge to clamp her eyes shut at his reaction. Was she going about this all wrong?

There was a long silence and then she explained.

"Her name is Patience," Sara said quickly, "She's from Liberia."

Grissom didn't say anything, but allowed his eyes to go completely wide. In situations such as that which was playing out before him he found it best not to hide what was going through his head. "Sara, we talked about this," he said in a vaguely shaky tone. This was the uneven ground she had expected, this was the uneven ground she had steeled herself for.

Sara smiled, shaking her head, "I understand, I know, but it wouldn't be right away, they say it's not safe for her to leave the country at the moment, and it could be up to... five years," it all came out in a long breath, her left pointer and middle finger in a vice grip created by her right hand. "I was just speaking with Sandy from Child Services the other day and we got into a conversation and she brought up this little girl... it wasn't... I'm not... I didn't go looking for this, Gil... it felt like she... found me. This is just something _I_ really felt the need to... discuss," Sara finished, feeling incredibly light and better for what she had said.

"This… is going to sound… wrong, going to _come out_ wrong, but when we talked about children I imagined… the two of us… making a… a child," he finished simply, picking at the label on his beer for a moment before putting it down. "Which seems rather... simple when I think about it..."

Sara smiled sadly, "And I find that very… amazing, and sexy, frightening and wonderful. And hon, I'd love to have your child," the tension was heavy in the room and in a moment of lucidity she attempted to break it. "And I'm sure you'd love to carry my child if things were different…"

He smiled, "You know what they say about assuming."

"Yeah, I don't think your back could take it," she said in quiet jest, slapping his knees lightly. Trudging on, "She doesn't have anyone," and then she couldn't seem to say anything else. Couldn't tell him about the civil war that was constantly on the fringe, the conditions the little girl had to live in, the slim chances that she would make it to fifteen. Sara couldn't tell him about the social worker who she'd been speaking with while waiting to be called as expert testimony, who told her of all the children living in substandard orphanages, waiting for someone to adopt them, getting dumped out into the streets when they got too crowded.

He began kneading his hands, pressing them between his knees and pretended to stare at the television. There was a subtle tension between them that had filtered in; she knew it was inevitable but she had resolved to overcome it.

It seemed she was forgetting the most important part, "I don't want to pressure you, that's not what I'm meaning to do, that's not what I want... it's just… how I feel; and I think we'd be amazing."

Grissom blinked at her, stared for a moment and then took another pull at his beer. "I… think… we would too, eventually." Placing the bottle down on the table, he sat back and scootched over to make sure that he could really look at her. "It's just… a little… sudden, and I wouldn't mind-"

"Let's sleep on it and then we can talk… more in depth… about it later, _later_-later if need be, I just wanted you to know is all," she concluded, adding-as an afterthought-in a whisper, "I just think there's so much… love…" the color flared in her cheeks, "Between us that it wouldn't be so bad to… share it… with someone who needs it?"

"And that's a perfect reason," he agreed, holding up his arm an inviting her to snuggle into it, "And I appreciate that you felt that you could talk about this with me. I love you for it." The heat flared in his cheeks then and they shared a stolen glance out of the corners of their eyes, smiling slightly when they caught the other.

The tension drained from her body as she molded into his, finding that it had been easier than she had originally thought. The television hummed in front of them and Sara found herself dozing off in his arms to the chirping of a local news anchor. She was easily pulled from slumber when he leaned forward to pluck the folder gently off of the table.

"She is… it's almost like she has your eyes," he whispered into her hair, his voice both serious and shaky.

Sara pulled her legs up beneath her whilst yawning and looked over to glance at the photo of the smiling girl.

"… And you think she can be ours?" he asked, unsure.

Sara shrugged and yawned again, "That's entirely up to you…"

Grissom too yawned, looked down at the woman in his arms and then around the space in front of him, "We'd have to get a bigger place… with some color…"

She sat up, stared at him in disbelief, "I thought we were going to sleep on it."

After leaning in to kiss her softly on the lips, he stood to smooth his pants, stretching, "I'm just thinking out loud…"

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_A quick note. Patience is an actual girl from Liberia who was adopted by a family in Minnesota. _ _Her story inspired me to write this story. Thanks for reading, peace._


End file.
